


Snowed In

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Affection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ignoct Secret Santa 2017, M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: When the Regalia gets snowed in during their travels, the boys need to pass the time while they wait for help.





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [choiminhovevo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/choiminhovevo/gifts).



Meteorologically speaking, Lucis was not a very varied climate; despite the rains and the heat, the transition of wetlands to wastelands, the kingdom itself was seasonally stagnant. Summer and autumn had always had a habit of blending together, and in the wastes of Leide the winter months had made very little impact. Spring blossoms seemed unique to only portions of Insomnia where the trees were carefully cultivated to flower— or out in the farms for the same reasons— quickly giving way to fat summer fruits. Ignis recalled the stretch of seasons in the city well enough— the way the summer stretched on into mild, warm winters near the southern districts with barely a transition between leafy green and barren grey; while the Northern Gate was assaulted by howling winter winds driven in on sea-salt gales, and an eased passage into the blossoms of spring later than the farmlands at the South Gates and eastern fortifications. The city had been just as divided by the seasons as it had been by districts. 

He remembered the first time he had seen snow in the city— the dusting of it when he was young a disappointment after having anticipated the heavy blanket that he was used to in Tenebrae. He remembered the cold barely bit at his hands when playing with Noctis in the gardens, the flowers set in perfect crystalline shapes around them, the powdery snow gone the next day. The dusting of snow that had reached the city centre had barely been enough to scrape together for a small sculpture on the edge of a fountain, the cold winds barely enough to send frosty veins across the calm surface of water. He had much preferred the visit out to the snow-laden districts to the north and east, where the fortifications ended at the steep cliffs and the Wall vanished in a shimmer into the grey sea. He had preferred showing Noctis the games he used to play in the snow in Tenebrae, recounting the way the blizzards were carried in from Niflheim seemingly overnight as he taught his friend the way to shape the perfect snowball to throw at Gladio. 

Ignis also remembered the way Noctis was sensitive to the cold. The way his friend, when they were younger, had shivered and tried to hide his hands from the chill, or recoiled from the metal handles of doors. The way Noctis had cradled warm drinks like a lifeline, even when they stayed closer to the mild city centre. The way he would slip those cold hands into pockets and jacket sleeves, or steal the gloves Ignis had tucked away into his own pockets. The impatient huff of warm breath against cold-stiff fingers as they waited in the winds for some duty or another to begin. 

“You can’t possibly still be cold.”

This was the first time the weather had taken a turn while they were on the road. 

Exploring the mountains north of the Vesperpool, the winds had turned as they managed to muddle through one blockade or another. While the rolling hills had started to become impenetrable, and the outposts had quickly vanished from the roadside, the rumours they had followed dried up to nothing— old tombs already claimed by hunters or past kings, their pieces of the Armiger lost to Noctis for now. The roads had closed behind them in the span of a few days, seasonal snows trapped by the mountain ranges keeping them stranded at a haven while they waited for help. 

The call to Cor had gone out the day before, the promise of hunters to help them move the Regalia made before anyone realised that there were no markers or familiar landmarks to direct them. Gladio and Prompto had taken the chocobos down to a haven near the blockades to act as guides when the hunters managed to make their way there. Noctis stayed with the car and Ignis, snowed in as they watched the woolly garulas foraging for food a short distance away. 

“Of course I’m cold.” Noctis had taken to bundling close to the campfire, sulking as the winds cut through the camp itself. The tent was warm enough, but no one had planned to venture this far from the path to Accordo. No one had expected to get caught in the canyons of mountains that had already taken the brunt of the Niflheim sieges— closed off and left unmaintained for years, despite the decent state of the roads themselves. No one had thought they would need actual portable heaters. “It’s freezing out here.”

Ignis sighed, and sat by Noct’s side within the warm radius of the fire. The snow had finally stopped falling, but it left the heavy blanket behind, muting the world around them despite the seemingly constant noise of the crackling wood and the chill wind. In the forests beyond the haven and the clearings cut through the wood for the roads, the occasional snap of a tree branch under the weight of the snow or the distant noises of the garula herd were the only noises to break through the calm, muted world. Ignis thought he could be forgiven for thinking it was just the two of them left, alone next to a campfire as the days shortened. 

It was almost a sacred sort of quiet. Like the tombs they had been searching for— the one that had brought them this far away from the familiar roads to the south barely visible among the snow piled around it. The statues and gates had risen among the trees in half-crumbling monuments, frozen in time despite the cold winds circling with the birdbeasts. The door had been broken open years ago, they suspected, and their footsteps on the stone almost a profane break in the silence around them. 

“You’re exaggerating,” Ignis removed his own gloves, taking Noct’s cold hands in his own. They hadn’t been alone together in ages. Since the hotel in Lestallum, where the sun had reflected off the concrete and the heat of the canyons and buildings radiated around them. It seemed like another world in comparison now. It may as well have been; nearly a three day’s drive out of the snow capped mountains, with a distinct glacial look to the barriers up ahead. He suspected that none of them would be complaining of the heat for a while after this. “It’s just a little brisk.”

“A little— Specs, you’re joking.”

“Have you ever known me to joke?”

“Yes,” Noctis didn’t resist the pull to his hands, the way Ignis cupped his own around them. “Your jokes are terrible.”

“Then I’m joking.” Ignis smiled at the roll of Noct’s eyes, and rubbed the cold hands between his own. “You never did handle the cold well.”

“Gladio would say I was too hot headed for it.”

“He would know.”

There had always been the familiar arguments, the fights between the two as they tried to out-stubborn one another, as they each tried to prove the other wrong or right or whatever had sparked the argument this time. There were always the familiar shouts and bouts of sparring, even in the snow before the little area cleared by shields and fire had been covered again overnight. Ignis preferred not to think about them now, enjoying the way Noct seemed to relax under his attention, the way his hands softened between his own, and the smile that returned to his lips as they had this moment of peace between them. Ignis huffed a warm breath across chilled flesh and smiled at the little blush it earned him— just the faintest colour of Noct’s cheeks in the privacy of their silent little world. “How long has it been, Noct?”

“A week? Two? Lestallum since we got rid of the guys for more than a few minutes.”

“Yes,” a soft kiss pressed to palm before he released his prince’s hands, the gesture left open as an invitation. “And I daresay that we may be snowed in for a while yet.”

“Iggy—”

“And I’m told it’s cold.”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Are you declining my invitation to share body heat?”

The laugh was worth the ridiculous conversation, the ridiculous idea. The flush rising in Noct’s features, the cold and threat of danger chased away with such a simple joke, had Ignis reaching for him again. He had his arms full of Noct with just an easy tug; being kissed as soon as Noct’s amusement faded enough to realise that he was being pulled close. 

The fire would keep as it was for a while yet, burning easily as a beacon should the others return with the hunters meant to help them clear the mountain roads. And the single heater brought— meant for the stormy weather of Duscae and Cleigne— would be enough to warm the tent for just the two of them. Later, Ignis knew that he would be able to make something hot and satisfying— a stew or soup that would ease the ache of cold in Noctis for a few hours longer— but the coffee was still steaming in its pot by the fire and the prince was kissing him, a small smile steadily growing with the affection. With the realisation that they had all the time they wanted in this muted little world. 

“That was the worst pick up line, yet, Specs.”

“I don’t know, it seems to have worked.”

Ignis let his hands move to Noct’s back, let his attention slip from lips to flushed cheeks, to the promise in those eyes. And he stood, pulling his lover up with him.


End file.
